


kobra kid saves the day

by spellingbee



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), Nonbinary Show Pony, Podfic Welcome, kobra kid is the only thing keeping this community sane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 13:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20725259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellingbee/pseuds/spellingbee
Summary: Jet Star, Party Poison, and Show Pony start a band.It's up to the Kobra Kid to put a stop to it.





	kobra kid saves the day

**Author's Note:**

> Week 38! ✨
> 
> thank you to my zucchini ace (funkobraofficial on tumblr) and my friend pink (pinkstationhero on tumblr) for beta-reading this!! 💖💖💖
> 
> this one-shot is based on an anonymous prompt from tumblr!! enjoy! 😘

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“Party,” Kobra sighs, pushing his sunglasses down so he can rub his temples, “do  _ not _ take those buckets with you.”

“What?” Party asks with feigned incredulity. “I’m just takin’ ‘em so we have somethin’ to put our purchases in!”

“No,” Kobra says, “you’re takin’ ‘em so you can pretend they’re drums an’ make a big racket right outside Tommy’s shop.”

“I would  _ never!” _ Party says, clutching the buckets tighter to their chest. “Why the hell would you even  _ accuse _ me of somethin’ like that?!”

“Because you’re my idiot sibling who’s done this exact thing like eight times in the past three months?”

Party sticks their tongue out and blows a raspberry at him. Kobra’s hands twitch at his sides, the urge to wrap them around their neck strong, but no…. No. 

“Just gimme the buckets, Party,” Kobra says, but he’s already resigned himself to the fate that lies ahead.

“Nope!” Party says, as he’d known they would, and dashes out the door, buckets in hand.

Kobra sighs. He just hopes Jet’s feeling rational today.

\-----

“Okay,” Jet Star’s saying to Party and Pony as Kobra approaches the group, “what song should we play first?”

“Toxic!” Pony shouts, and immediately launches into a caterwauling rendition of the classic song. At least, Kobra  _ thinks _ that’s what the noise is supposed to be.

“No,” Jet says, frowning down at the banjo in his hands. “We did that one last time.”

Pony stops aer yowling and says, “Uh,  _ yeah. _ ‘Cause Toxic’s fun as hell, my guy!”

“Yeah, but Jet’s right,” Party says, lining their upended buckets up on the ground in front of them. “We can’t do the same thing all the time, it’s no fun!! We can do Toxic next time. I wanna play Fuck World!”

“Can you  _ please _ stop calling it that?” Jet asks, lowering his banjo slightly. “It’s  _ Fuck This Whole Wide World, _ and when you call it Fuck World it sounds like a terrifying pre-BL/ind amusement park I want no part of.”

“I’d go to Fuck World,” Party says. “Like, every goddamn  _ day.” _

“I know, Party.”

“I’d be the  _ mayor _ of Fuck World.”

“I know, Party.”

“Are we gonna do this or not?” Pony asks, running the wheels of one skate over the ground and putting aer hands on aer hips. 

Kobra figures he should probably step in now, before they start making so much noise they draw Tommy’s attention. Honestly, he’d have thought Pony’s “singing” would have drawn his attention by now, but apparently luck’s on his side today.

He closes the distance between them and puts his hand on Jet’s banjo before he can start strumming. “Nope,” he says. “No, nuh-uh, definitely not.”

“Kobra!” Jet says brightly. “This is perfect. Pony found a recorder in the trash, and ae was gonna play it today, but ae can’t play it and sing at the same time. You should give it a go!”

Kobra eyes the glittery sun-faded pink plastic flute-thing Pony holds out to him. It’s a tempting offer. But no…. No.

“Ya can’t play your shitty covers outside Tommy’s shop,” he says, frowning around at all three of them. “He’s gonna ban ya an’ then me an’ Ghoul’re gonna be the only ones who can make supply runs.”

Party makes a scoffing sound. “Tommy’s not gonna  _ ban _ us,” they say. “He  _ loves _ our music!” They slap a couple of their overturned buckets to emphasize their point. One of them falls over.

“You scare away his customers,” Kobra says. “He’s a capitalist. Capitalists don’t like it when you do that.”

“Tommy Chow Mein’s not a  _ capitalist,” _ Jet says. 

“To be fair, babe, he’s doing a capitalism right now,” Party corrects with a shrug of their shoulder.

“He’s running a  _ business,” _ Jet argues. “That’s not  _ ‘doing a capitalism.’” _

“Darling,” Pony says gently, placing a hand on Jet’s shoulder. “He’s exchanging goods and services for carbons. That’s capitalism.”

Jet gasps, and looks affronted. “What? But-- _ I _ do that. People pay me to help ‘em out sometimes.”

Pony nods sagely. “Capitalism.”

Kobra’s never seen Jet look so  _ heartbroken. _ “I’m...participating in capitalism?”

“‘Fraid so, Jet,” Party says, slapping one of the buckets. “Never mind, whatever, let’s  _ do this thing!” _

Kobra turns his attention back to Party. “An’ I thought  _ you _ were just bringin’ buckets  _ ‘to carry your purchases.’” _

_ _ They roll their eyes. “Like you  _ actually _ believed me,” they scoff.

“Don’t wanna be a capitalist,” Jet says. “What do I  _ do?” _

_ _ “Aw, sugar,” Pony says comfortingly. “It’s not that bad! I know ya barter sometimes. Hell, I know ya do stuff for  _ free _ whenever ya can! That’s not capitalism!”

“Party, ya gotta go  _ home,” _ Kobra says, attempting to ignore his sibling’s datemates’ discussion, “before Tommy sees ya and chases you off again!”

“He’s not gonna  _ chase us,” _ Party says. “Tommy Chow Mein  _ loves _ Fuck World!”

“Party, darling,  _ please _ don’t call it that, Jet’s having a crisis already.”

“How did I not realize I was  _ participating _ in  _ capitalism?!” _

“Tommy’s  _ gonna _ chase ya. He’s done it every time you’ve done this. He’s got a broom dedicated to chasin’ ya out.”

“Tommy  _ loves _ when we serenade him!”

“Jet Star, dear, why don’t we just go ahead and play Toxic, hm? Since Party’s busy and the drums are sort of necessary for Eff-Tee-Dubya-Dubya-Dubya.”

“Thanks for not calling it Fuck World.”

“Tommy Chow Mein does  _ not _ have a dedicated broom!”

“Tommy Chow Mein,” says none other than Tommy himself, standing in the doorway to his shop and holding a bent-handled broom in one hand, “is going to acquaint each and every one of you with the business end of aforementioned dedicated broom  _ and _ charge you each three carbons per whack if you noisy louts don’t  _ scurry out of here right this instant.” _

_ _ “Aw, but  _ Tommy--” _ Party whines, but Kobra’s already snatching their buckets off the ground and shoving them into Party’s arms, pushing all three of them toward the waiting Trans Am. 

“Sorry, Tommy!” he calls over his shoulder.

Tommy makes a loud  _ harrumph _ noise and goes back into his shop.

_ “Come on, come on, lick my battery!” _ Pony sing-songs at him, off-key and in a completely different tune from the original.

Kobra pinches aer earlobe in an attempt to shut aer up, but only succeeds in making aer shriek loudly in his ear.

“You three are gonna be the goddamn  _ death _ of me,” Kobra groans as they all get into the car, “and that’s a feat, ‘cause I was sure  _ Ghoul _ ’d already claimed that spot.”

“Well, our plans for the day are out,” Jet sighs from the backseat.

“Oh, don’t look at it that way!” Pony says beside him. “Just because we can’t perform outside of Tommy’s shop doesn’t mean we can’t  _ perform!” _

“Oh, no,” Kobra says from the passenger seat, “no, no,  _ no, _ do  _ not--” _

But he’s too late. Pony’s started up aer song again, and a beat later Jet joins in on his banjo (at least  _ Jet _ can actually play, although it’s not quite enough to make up for Pony’s and Party’s lack of talent). 

Kobra sighs to himself, slumping down in his seat and wishing he’d brought along some ear mufflers or something.

Party’s drumming on the steering wheel as they drive, but they nudge something toward him with their elbow. He looks down; it’s the pink recorder.

“C’mon, bro,” they say with a grin. “Join the band!”

Well...what the hell? They can’t exactly get kicked out of their  _ own _ car _ , _ and it’s not like anything Kobra adds to the sound will make anything  _ worse. _

Laughing slightly, he relents, picking up the recorder and bringing it to his lips. He begins to play the only song he knows: Hot Cross Buns.

Strangely enough, he thinks this might be the best they’ve ever sounded.

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on real life. show pony is me. thank you.
> 
> if you enjoyed this fic, feel free to leave kudos or a comment! i'd love to hear your thoughts 😊
> 
> or come visit me on tumblr! http://enby-partypoison.tumblr.com/


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